


Something To Do With Love

by AxeMeAboutAxinomancy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sharing Body Heat, Something Made Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy/pseuds/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something fell on Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something To Do With Love

_I'm so cold._

It's all he can think of, all he can _think_.

_So cold._

***

"What happened?" Castiel is asking Sam. It must be Sam by the way he blots out all available light. Dean squeezes his eyes shut anyway. He is curled into a tight shivering ball in the middle of his motel bed. All of the room's covers are on him, and apparently some extras, and he's fully clothed even to his coat and boots and he's still _so cold._

"Something fell on him," Sam is saying. He's describing what happened, at the shop of quote-unquote magic crap that had turned out to have some actual magic crap. A whole shelf of which fell on Dean when the creepy old lady came at him. "We think a, a cursed object. But then the fire started."

A nice quick sum-up, though 'up Shit Creek' would be shorter. There must have been a dozen things that rained down on Dean's head from that top shelf. A couple of them hurt. All of them went up in smoke with the firetrap of a shop.

And now he's so cold.

Cas and Sam go on talking. Dean, teeth gritted and trembling, can't listen to the words anymore, but he can still hear the tones. Cas sounds the same as ever, gravelly and mostly calm. Sam's voice has the worried sound to it.

After a little while, Cas' voice has the worried sound too.

"Dean," somebody is saying to him. He can't tell who, the voice is far away. He feels completely covered in frost, like that mountain in Slovenia or Slovakia or wherever-the-hell with the trees and buildings all white and closed over and spiky with layers of hard ice. Dean saw only a few seconds of that when Sam was watching Nature TV, but now the images persist. It had been weirdly beautiful, but it's no fun to feel like you're living it.

"Dean. Can you hear me?"

He can hear, but answering is impossible with his teeth locked together. His whole body aches. He's curled up so tight that the person talking to him - Cas - isn't sure exactly where Dean's head is under all the covers. There's some fumbling.

A hand, a palm pressed to Dean's forehead. Like his mom checking for fever when he was little.

And it's warm.

It's so _warm_.

Dean's eyes fly open and he grabs for it, or tries to. His arm is shaking as much as the rest of him and it was locked around his knees, so he flails a little trying. Cas, not understanding, thinking Dean is trying to hit the hand away, is saying, "Dean, I'm only trying to - "

Dean manages to get hold of the hovering hand, and presses the palm to his cheek.

"Dean?"

"Warm," Dean rasps, his eyes tight shut as he savors it. "Oh my God you're warm." He turns his face right into it, presses his cold lips to the heel of Cas' palm. Cas gasps a little.

"Body heat?" Sam says from far away. A couple of thunks as he takes off his enormous shoes and then he's shoving his way into the thick nest of useless blankets. He's thinking of what you do for hypothermia. He crowds up behind the tight knot that is Dean and tries rubbing his back and arms to chafe some heat into him. But it doesn't work. Dean can feel his efforts through the layers of clothes, but they don't warm him at all. He moans in frustration, curling tighter, shivering so hard it feels like his bones will break.

"This isn't working," Sam says, apparently to Cas, and the worried sound is really there now, it vibrates through Dean's chest too. "Why isn't this working? Is it just you that's…?" Just then, Dean shifts and Sam's hand brushes against the back of Dean's.

And Sam's hand is warm, so _warm_. Dean grips it desperately. It doesn't really do anything for the shivering, it's just a small point of heat in a big cold darkness, but he'll take it.

" _Oh_ ," says Sam. There is a whispered conference. Dean doesn't try to listen, just holds on to Sam's hand. Or tries to. Next thing he knows, they're wrestling the clothes off him and he's trying to fight, because that's a thing a guy instinctively fights, but thanks to the shivering, he fights so weakly it does him no good. They drag the coat off, flannel shirt, T-shirt, he's bare from the waist up. They try to get his jeans off and only then discover his boots still on. Swearing. Cas is clumsy with clothes fastenings and Sam has to help him more than once.

They leave him his underwear, not that it makes any difference to Dean at this point. Losing all those layers doesn't make him feel any colder, at least. They throw the blankets back on him and he curls up again.

Sam gets back in the bed. He puts a tentative hand on Dean's back. It glows like fire, feels like it brands the shape of Sam's big hand into Dean's cold hide, and he twists around, glomming onto Sam so ferociously that Sam squeaks.

Ohhh. It feels so good, Sam (also, it turns out, stripped down to his underwear) is _so warm_ , and after a Moment of Epic Awkward he wraps his arms around Dean and lets him snuggle in.

"Is it helping?" asks Cas.

"He's still shivering," Sam says. "But I think we got the right idea here. - Ah!"

"What?" Cas sounds worried.

"He's tickling me. Dean! Get out of my armpit."

"Shut up," Dean mumbles into Sam's skin. Sam's armpits feel warmer than the rest of him. He's lucky Dean isn't trying to burrow into his crotch.

"His back is freezing," Sam slides his hands up and down Dean's back. "Cas. Get in here."

"I don't think he'll want me to do that," Cas says.

"I don't care what you think he wants. You think he wants to be snuggling _me?_ Dean _needs_ you. Strip and get the hell in."

Dean smiles into Sam's armpit at this. 'Dean needs you' works on Cas just as well as 'Sam needs you' works on Dean. And it's always been fun to hear Sam bossing somebody around, as long as that somebody isn't Dean.

Sam's heat is so good, it's everything that's good - and Dean clings to it while he listens to the reluctant rustlings of an angel taking his clothes off. Sam's heartbeat is slow and steady and reassuring. Loud under his ear.

Then Cas gets in, and hesitantly slides up behind Dean.

Warmth on his back, all along his back. Warmth, surrounding and enveloping him, passing through him. Dean turns his face toward the air and exhales slowly. The trembling is starting to subside as his muscles relax.

And Cas is _not wearing any underwear._

Dean starts to giggle helplessly.

Cas' heart is beating a lot faster than Sam's. There is a ridiculous tangle of arms and a lot of _breathing_ going on. Dean's experience of snuggling is extremely limited. Even if it weren't, this would have to be weird.

But it feels so good, so necessary, that the embarrassment (and as he warms up and can think anything other than how cold he is, there's plenty of embarrassment) is firmly secondary, at least for now. It feels so amazing to be warm. And these two warm bodies in the bed with him belong to the two people he trusts most.

"What's so funny?" Sam wonders. "Or is it endorphins or something."

"Cas," says Dean, and tries to stop laughing. "He went the extra mile."

"What...?" Then Sam understands. To Cas, " _Dude_."

"You told me to strip." The angel at Dean's back sounds slightly wounded. "You didn't say anything about underwear."

"All right, all right," says Dean.

There are still little remnants of shivers going over him from time to time. The next time it happens, Cas leans his head forward. Dean feels it: lips against the back of his neck. A chaste sort of kiss, except.

He doesn't say a word. The warmth of Cas' lips seems to go all down Dean's spine, tingling all the way down in his toes.

Sam's arms around him are like when they were little, only reversed. Sam is now the bigger one, and can hold Dean the way Dean once held him. That was so long ago he wonders if Sam even remembers it.

They stay this way for a while. Once Dean has stopped shivering, the other two draw away to see if he's all right on his own now.

He's not. The moment they withdraw, all of Dean's body heat seems to vanish with them.

"It's not finished," says Sam.

"Or it's not satisfied," says Cas.

" _Guys_ ," shivers Dean, teeth already chattering, and they come back. This time, even underwear is a barrier to his getting warm again and it has to go.

"What do you mean not satisfied?" says Sam, anxious. "Is it trying to kill him?"

Dean, warming up again between them, doesn't much care. He closes his eyes and snuggles down with a sigh.

"I don't think so," Cas says, very slowly. "This… doesn't seem like a curse. It doesn't feel the way a curse feels. - Your discomfort notwithstanding, Dean."

Dean makes a noncommittal noise against Sam's shoulder.

"If it's not a curse what is it?" says Sam, "some spell gone wrong?" His hand is on Dean's head. Sort of stroking his hair. That feels good too. Dean pushes into it like a dog.

Cas doesn't answer right away. Eventually he says, "I'm not sure."

"You got an idea though," Dean mumbles, because he can feel Cas shifting around. He's such a crappy liar.

"I know what I would like it to be. But I lack objectivity."

"Well you're the only one with an idea. So let's hear it," says Sam.

"It could be a blessing."

Sam snorts. Dean says nothing: He waits.

"Not a _metaphorical_ blessing," says Cas impatiently. "Literal, the way a curse is literal."

Sam says slowly, "The only thing we know about blessings is for holy water."

 _Probably holy oil too_ , thinks Dean, but they don't know much about it, Cas just brought it to them, they hadn't seen it made.

"Those blessings are made by humans. The kind I mean come from archangels - or God. And they are very rare."

"Why the hell would a blessing freeze me to death!" grumbles Dean.

"It depends upon its intent," Cas says. "Blessings change. Curses can be broken because they're rigid - brittle. Their malice is bound to the letter of the binding and subject to technicalities. Blessings change and flow as they try to give the benefit of the doubt and fulfill their purpose."

"But what's the purpose?"

Castiel sighs. "Usually it's something to do with love."

Dean groans.

"You never like my answers, Dean. And yet you keep asking me questions."

"It'd be as good as a curse," says Sam, "if it fell on someone who didn't have anybody to do this for them. It'd be cruel."

Dean agrees. That's why they assumed it's a curse. It seemed like the kind of nasty that witches get into.

"It fell to Dean because it was meant for Dean."

There's a little pause. But then Sam says,

"You _sure_ this was nothing to do with you, Cas?"

Cas stiffens - in the offended way, all over - against Dean's back. This is less warm than full contact and Dean grunts in complaint.

"I did _not_ cause this. I had no knowledge of it." Cas' voice is hurt. "I only want to help."

It's not as though Cas has never lied to them for the sake of his own interests, but Dean doesn't think he's lying now. Dean thinks he's telling the truth, and that Sam is being hard on him for no good reason.

So he wriggles around till his back is to Sam, slings his arm around Cas' waist and pulls him in.

"Less talk. More warm," says Dean.

Cas is giving him a very worried look at very close range. Unlike with Sam, they're near the same height and are very much face to face.

Sam feels amazing against his back. Warm and steady and bizarrely comfortable.

Cas is less comfortable because he can't relax and there's too much space between them. Dean shivers and pulls at him.

When Cas settles in closer, averting his gaze, _he's_ shaking.

"You okay?"

Cas mutters, "I'm scared."

Sam, maybe coincidentally, moves his arm so that it rests on Cas' shoulder. He rests his cheek against the top of Dean's head. Dean supposes he's looking at Cas too.

But instead of asking Of what, or Why, they wait. Either he'll explain or he won't. Dean still feels a little stung about what Cas said about questions.

"I think the blessing is still changing. You're probably not going to like it and now it seems you'll be likely to blame me. I'll lose your friendship. I'm not an _archangel_ , Dean. I _can't_ have done this."

He's almost babbling. It almost distracts Dean from the other thing. The one thing that leads to the others.

First, he feels, against his thigh, the source of Cas' current anxiety: Yes. That is an angel dick at full attention, O come all ye faithful. Hark the herald angel, schwing. (He could probably go on all day.)

"I'm sorry," Cas is saying, trying to pull back, but Dean hasn't let go of him and Sam doesn't either.

Next, he feels (they all do, they all catch their breath in the same way at the same time) a wave of ecstatic warmth, euphoric even, swirl over the motel bed. It feels good, it feels awesome, you might even say - _glorious_. It's the perfect opposite of his earlier misery, cold and curled up alone in layers of stuff that couldn't even begin to warm him.

Warm now, and not alone: surrounded by warmth.

_But what's the purpose?_

_Usually it's something to do with love._

Dean looks at Cas' panicked face and can only feel _warmth_ for this complete goofball, none of the anger or disgust Cas plainly expects. It doesn't even make him recoil to press against him and feel it, hot and anxious against his thigh. It doesn't make him recoil at all.

It makes him feel _warm_.

The look on Cas' face changes.

He leans in and kisses Dean's mouth. Maybe not quite as violently as he did with Meg that time, but definitely in the same style. Dean likes this style. He tightens his arm around Cas' back.

" _Whoa_ ," says Sam as Dean rocks back into him. Dean can feel him jump a little, in shock - but he doesn't recoil, either. He so easily could. He stays where he is.

It's not like being drunk, or drugged, or even enchanted. He absolutely does know what he's doing. So does Cas. So does Sam.

Sam's hard, pressed up against him from behind. It feels huge, back there, and it probably is. It's loitering in between Dean's cheeks like it thinks it belongs there. It's really suggestive of being fucked, which is the most terrifying idea Dean has ever masturbated to.

And Dean's hard of course. When did that happen?

A little while back.

He presses back into Sam and is rewarded by a breathless sound near his ear and meaningful rocking that feels weirdly good, that hot flesh rubbing against him, getting his skin slick with precome. _Sam's_. - And then Sam bites him. Not like a stupid vampire kind of bite but a GOOD one, a hard gnaw at the muscle between Dean's neck and shoulder. Dean tips his head back from Cas to gasp, then puts his hand on Castiel's ass to cup, then squeeze. Nice.

Cas looks into Dean's eyes, as though still unable to believe this is okay. His mouth looks wet and a little swollen and Dean wants it back immediately. Cas shifts, guided by Dean's hand, and they align enough that they can press together when Sam rocks him forward. Dean can't remember any of his angel-dick-related snark from earlier. All he can think about is how fucking hot it is, the throbbing pressure of their cocks shoved together, and the _look_ on Cas' face.

"Dean." Sam is panting, nuzzling at the back of his neck. Thrusting at him. Sliding against him. Playing at fucking Dean in the ass. Maybe that means he really wants to. Maybe that means he's thought about it. Dean's thought about it, and he knows Sam can tell by the way Dean shoves back at him not to stop.

"Dean." Cas is shaking, clinging to him, his breathing gone ragged.

Then Sam does something unexpected.

He reaches forward, between Dean and Cas, and wraps his hand around both of their cocks, his thumb on Dean, his fingers wrapped around Cas, squeezing and stroking and still thrusting. Cas grips Dean's shoulders.

He's been first in everything and he's first to come. Cas opens his eyes wide as though he's pleading but if he's trying to say anything, it doesn't come out. His head falls forward against Dean's neck and he's coming, on Dean, on Sam's fingers, and Dean can feel the pulsing of his cock, can feel each spurt, it's pressed so tight to his.

Sam is next, a succession of hard slick thrusts and then heat is splashing and spreading on Dean's back. The strangled sound Sam makes when it takes him is right by Dean's ear, he can feel the heat of Sam's breath on his neck, and it's so damn hot that Dean can't hold out anymore, he's _coming right now_ , shouting himself hoarse. It seems to go on and on, shaking his whole body into pieces, and then into light.

He wallows back to consciousness to find Sam leaning over him. This has happened a lot of times already in Dean's life, so it takes him a second to reassemble himself and remember why -

_Oh._

"Dean?"

Dean blinks up at him. Then he looks to the side. Cas is there, curled up like a baby and quietly snoring.

He looks back at Sam.

"I'm not sure where all that came from," Sam says. "I mean. I can't tell whether it's creepier to think an archangel or _God_ made that happen. But I can tell you one thing. I. I didn't do anything I didn't wanna do."

He's blushing. It's kind of beautiful.

"And I'm pretty sure that's true of Cas too. Though I probably shouldn't try to speak for him."

"Seems obvious though," says Dean.

"Yeah."

"Me too." Like he even has to say it. But it pleases Sam, and the lingering worry lets go of his eyebrows.

Dean pushes up on his elbow and kisses Sam on the mouth.

His face goes hot as he does it, he half expects Sam to shove him back and say 'But.'

Sam doesn't shove him back. He's surprised, but after a moment's hesitation, he responds, and it's so good that Dean finds himself flat on his back again without knowing how he got there. Sam is good at biting AND kissing. Holy crap is he good at kissing. Cas' mouth to mouth crash had been hot all right, but Sam has finesse.

After a while Sam says, "You get what it took to satisfy the blessing, right, Dean? You had to accept the love that surrounds you."

Yeah. Dean gets that. But talking about it's even more embarrassing than waking up naked with a couple of guys.

"Yeah, everybody came on me, including me. You'd think a blessing that big on love could've provided a towel."

Sam takes the hint, rolling out of the bed to get one. He tosses it to Dean.

Dean, mopping himself up, has his eyes down on his task as he says, "So, uh. If some night I - told you I was cold. Would you...?" _Would you warm me up like you did. Would you do what you did, only for real._ He looks up and meets Sam's eye.

"Something to do with love?" Sam is teasing him, but he relents quickly. "Of course I would. Dean. You wouldn't get to finish the _sentence_." There's a dark look that goes with this that goes all over Dean like wandering hands.

And he loves it.

Dean gets up, tossing the towel into a corner, and saunters naked to the bathroom.

"When I get out of the shower," he says over his shoulder, "I want the _biggest_ fucking breakfast."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to TSylvestris, whose excellent idea the blessing was. ♥


End file.
